


Finders Keepers

by scandalsavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: A/B/O, Alignment Swap, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Imprisonment, Kinda, M/M, Master/Slave, Omega!Jason, Oral Sex, SladeRobin Week, Stockholm Syndrome, alpha!dick, beta!Tim, robinpile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Slade likes to take Bruce’s stuff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: Alignment Swap - Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics - Imprisonment (Slade/Tim, Slade/Robins, Dick/Jason)
> 
> Chapter 2: Master/Slave - “I will take care of you” - Biting (Slade/Jason, Slade/Jason/Dick, Slade/Dick)
> 
> Chapter 3: Forced Bonding - Stockholm Syndrome (Slade/Dick)

_ 13 Months Ago _

Slade has never really considered himself a collector of any kind. He has always fancied himself more a hunter than anything else. However, watching the two older black haired boys snap the third into the restraints on the wall, he can’t help but think that, while they are most certainly trophies, he couldn’t have put together a better set if he’d tried.

He wonders if Bruce did it purposefully. If, when the first kid, an Alpha, didn’t work out, vanishing without a trace, he made the conscious decision that the next would be any other orientation. And when the omega disappeared too, did he specifically go looking for a beta boy with black hair and blue eyes?

The eyes are his favorite part. Dick’s are warm, dark navy, deep as an ocean. Slade got lucky with him. Alpha’s with a natural inclination to submit are as rare as Alphas with a taste for other Alphas. It hadn’t taken as much effort as he’d thought it would to break what little resistance was there. The fight was furious, which is what made it worth Slade’s time, what attracted him in the first place, but ultimately shorter than expected. A couple of years of threats and isolation and deep, scarring bites, bent Dick to his will just in time to help snag his replacement.

The omega, Jason, vicious pale blue-green gaze and foul mouth notwithstanding, was always going to be the easiest. Mostly because biology made it simple. A deep, authoritative growl, firm bite, and shared heat, puts most omegas in their place. Jason was only a little more difficult than the average omega but time, a little help from Dick through a couple more heats, and several months of keeping the boy in a state of constant submission brought him into their pack without much in the way of actual resistance.

“I didn’t believe it,” the last one snaps from where he’s secured to the concrete, thin sheen of sweat covering his bare chest, tone as icy as the little patches of stormy grey-blue peaking out from behind the swollen, bruised faced. Bleeding from a dozen cuts and scraps in varying degrees of severity, Timothy will be the most difficult to break. Betas aren’t as affected by scent as the others, unlikely to be drawn into games of dominance and submission, and a bite is largely just a bite. This one won’t be swayed by rut or heat, teeth or knot. Not in the easy way the others were. Fortunately, Slade is prepared.

“He told me,” the boy continues, disappointed gaze fixed on Dick and Jason, “He told me you betrayed him. I didn’t believe it until now.”

Slade is moderately surprised to hear that Bruce told Tim the truth, considering the lies the Bat had spun for Jason regarding the fate of his predecessor. Ultimately it doesn’t matter, but the change in tactics is certainly interesting.

Sparing a moment to consider his response, Slade feels the older two prizes turn their eyes to him, silently waiting for direction.

He could tell Tim the truth. It would certainly serve to worry, if not straight frighten the young beta to know what was in store for him. But in the unlikely chance the kid escapes, Slade would hate for Bruce to learn the that his first two partners didn’t leave of their own free will. He takes immense pleasure from the knowledge that Batman feels intense and suffocating failure and betrayal every time he thinks of them.

Stalking closer, Slade starts a low, menacing growl that only makes the kid snort. It’s alright that he’s unimpressed, Slade thinks as he makes a small signal behind his back. This is just the first tiny step.  
“Then it’s possible you’re not as clever as they say you are,” he rumbles into Tim’s ear, nipping sharply at the lobe, then the undersized scent gland beneath it.

Beta’s noses aren’t as keen and the scent glands are there but much smaller, the pheromones they produce much less potent and less plentiful.

But it’s all still there.

Behind him, Dick moves to the far corner of the tiny cell, near the large mattress neatly made up with satin sheets. He places his hand against the wall and a hidden compartment slides open, exposing a keypad. Dick enters a few commands and instantly the buzz of the air conditioner cuts out. A soft hissing noise takes it place.

If Tim was paying more attention, he would have probably been more worried about the telltale sound of sometime being pumped into the room.

As it is, he’s distracted by Jason’s movements, as the large omega removes the nearly invisible scent blockers from each gland before starting on his clothing. Slade is happy to see the way Tim sucks in a breath and his eyes flutter when the sweet smell of heat floods the small space, magnified by the pharmaceutical grade intensifiers, usually used by omegas who have trouble sustaining a meaningfully potent heat, being spewed into the room.

“I timed your abduction strategically,” Slade hums, continuing to scrape his teeth down Tim’s neck as his fingers start to work open the boy’s uniform pants. “This is the first serious day of Jason’s cycle. The intensifiers will prolong his heat for up to a month. Dick’s rut will start in a few days, mine soon after.”

Tim’s body stiffens in realization. “That’s not going to work—ahh!”

Slade wraps his hand around the new kid’s cock and gives a firm stroke. He feels pretty confident when he follows the younger man’s already hooded gaze to where Dick and Jason are having a brief struggle. Jason still makes them ‘earn’ the right to mate with him. Slade likes that.

The scent in the room ratchets up when Dick dodges a half-assed strike and shoves a grinning Jason into the wall before throwing him onto the bed.

Tim shivers at the sight. This may be easier than he thought. Slade just keeps getting lucky.

He grins against the delicate throat. “Get comfortable, kid. You’re gonna be here awhile.”

Then he bites.

 

* * *

 

  
_Present_

Tim groans, loud and wanton in Slade’s lap as the older man thrusts up into him. No matter how many times they do this, he hasn’t quite gotten used to the ease and confidence in the unashamed way Tim expresses his pleasure.

He also hopes he never gets used to the sight of Jason’s warm, wet mouth around Tim’s cock as the omega kneels between both of their spread legs. Or Dick’s soft, sweet lips moving against the youngest‘s as the first Robin lazily slides their tongues together.

“Having fun, kid?”

Dick starts kissing down Tim’s neck so that he can answer but all the beta can manage is another desperate moan when Slade slams against his prostate at the same moment Jason sucks on the head of his dick and digs his tongue into the slit.

“I asked you a question,” Slade growls, stilling his movements, “When I ask questions, I expect answers. I thought we were past the cell but may be you need a—“

“Yes,” Tim manages to gasp, “…having… fun…”

Slade growls again, lower, deeper. A warning. Watches as Dick bites down on Tim’s nipple and Jason uses teeth.

“Alpha! Yes, I’m having fun, Alpha!” Tim cries out, words tapering into a sob as Slade resumes thrusting in reward.

He watches as they all move together. So different, so beautiful.

And they’re his. All of them. His little Alpha, his beta, his omega. His pack. His complete set. Stolen from his rival.

A part of him thinks that Bruce will learn his lesson. They’re out of designations. Batman has lost three little birds. That’s the end. It must be.

But he knows the crazy bastard will try again soon. And Slade has every intention of being there.

He doesn’t know what will come next. How the next one will surprise him. But he’s certain whatever kid comes next will be a fine edition to his collection.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed up the framing device in the last chapter so if you read it before I posted this I'd just go back really quick and check it out. You don't have to reread the whole chapter. I just titled the second part "13 months later" when the first part should have been "13 months ago" and the second part should have been "Present". Like this chapter.
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://scandalsavagefanfic.tumblr.com/)

_Four Years Ago_

“You—you’re supposed to be dead…”

Dick smiles pleasantly at the younger man. The younger man with his same black hair, with his blue eyes just a few shades off, wearing a version of his old uniform. His replacement.

Slade may be on to something, with his theory about Bruce’s narcissism.

Dick tuts. “Bruce lied to you, little bird. You’ve been around a few years now. You must’ve noticed he does that. A lot.”

Robin frowns and doesn’t lower his guard. Not that it matters. Slade is already creeping through the shadows behind him.

“Why would he tell me you were dead if you’re not?”

When Dick steps closer, Jason tenses like he’s ready to leap if he must but doesn’t back down. Bruce certainly found himself a bold little omega. Not that Dick can smell him with those fancy scent blockers. But unlike his former mentor, he has no reason to doubt Slade’s words.

His current Alpha has never lied to him.

“Probably because the truth hurts more, makes him a different kind of failure.” He keeps his tone conversational and tosses his orange-tipped escrima into the air, keeping one eye on Robin to make sure the younger man’s focus is fixed on him.

Slade is only a few steps away now.

“And what’s the truth?”

 “Something better came along,” Dick says, grinning as Slade raises the butt of his riffle and slams it into the back of Robin’s head.

  
*             *             *

  
The moment Jason starts to wake up he knows something is wrong. Really wrong.

He winces as he blinks his eyes open. It’s not just the sharp, throbbing pain from where he got hit in the head or the dig of the cuffs into thin skin of his wrists, keeping his arms secured to the bedframe beyond his head. He’s naked, hot all over, drenched in sweat. And wet. Very wet. Something is inside him. Buzzing so violently he can’t immediately decide if it hurts or if it feels good.

“You smell much better now, pet,” rumbles a deep, gravelly voice, _so_ similar to his Alpha’s but not quite right.

With difficulty, Jason turns and squints at the gigantic, beast of a man standing over him. He doesn’t know if it’s the blow to the head or this alien scorching sensation, but his vision is fuzzy. All he can make out is the general size, large smudges of black and orange in the middle, and a blur of white on top.

He has never met Deathstroke before. But he knows his reputation.

Jason groans and convinces himself it’s not because of whatever is happening to his body but because he should have known, should have expected Wilson was nearby the moment he saw Grayson. If his predecessor isn’t dead that means Deathstroke didn’t kill him. And that means Bruce either lied to him or didn’t know that Dick had switched sides. If the first Robin is to be believed, it’s the former.

“Not—not your fucking pet,” he snarls as viciously as possible, given his… situation.

“Oh, you are, sweetheart. You are very much my pet.”

Jason gasps, choking on his biting retort to the patronizing name, as the thing inside him moves, sliding out slowly before shoving back in, hard and quick, twisting so that he feels the raised beads and ridges.

“St—stop…”

“Omegas are such simple, elegant creatures,” Deathstroke hums, ignoring his weakly muttered protests, considering him with an appraising gaze, not slowing the movement of his hand between Jason’s legs. “So malleable and… easy during heats. No desires beyond pleasing your Alpha at the end of his cock. So desperate and needy. I’m willing to bet you beg as beautifully as you smell.

“Fuck you. Not in… heat… not possible.” It _is_ impossible. There’s no way he’s been unconscious long enough for his suppressant to wear off and even if he had, it’s not like a heat starts the second it’s out of his system.

Quicker than his eyes can track and without any warning, Wilson grabs him and flips him onto his belly, twisting the chain that runs between the cuffs. When Jason yelps and slams his foot back into his attacker’s nuts, all he gets is a surprised grunt followed by what sounds like a pleased groan. Which, to Jason’s horror, when immediately paired with his hips being jerked up and a thumb pressing against his asshole, makes him whimper and _lean into it_.

“ _Good_ boy,” the mercenary rumbles in that deep, authoritative way that Jason usually hates but for some reason has the urge to give into now. His body reacts without his permission, shuddering at the praise, at the knowledge that the Alpha between his legs is happy with him.

“Poor little pup,” Wilson continues as his thumb drags lower, snagging on the toy still vibrating viciously, and nipping sharply at one of Jason’s cheeks. “Your previous Alpha really didn’t tend to your education as thoroughly as he should have. You’ve been on suppressants so long it didn’t take much to trigger your heat after flushing those nasty drugs out of your system. A little stimulation while you slept, a little Alpha scent, and now you can relax and be what you’re meant to be, a pretty, little cockslut, enslaved by your instincts, slave to _my_ instincts.”

“F-fuck you,” Jason says again. Only it comes out as a whine, is accompanied by the thick slide of slick, and he can feel himself pressing back to meet the toy as Wilson resumes thrusting it into him. With a huge amount of determination and more focus than he’s ever put into anything, Jason manages to stop moving toward the mercenary and trying to scramble away. Even though, in the back of his mind, he knows there’s nowhere to go when he’d restrained like this.

Suddenly the thing is gone with a lewd, wet squelch, and he somehow sighs in relief while simultaneously whining at the loss. Then he gasps at the abrupt swell of scent. Gun smoke and iron, impossibly heady and undeniably, overwhelmingly, Alpha. Like nothing he has ever smelled before.

Deathstroke chuckles, low and dark, as Jason feels the vibrating toy, dripping wet with his own fluids, press against his ass.

“N-no… don’t…”

“Hush, now. You’ll be a good little omega and take what your master gives you.”

Jason cries out when the toy is worked into his hole.

“Try to relax, pet,” Slade says, unrelenting as he steadily pushes despite the tightness of the clenched ring, “Your cunt is built for fucking. It opens up and produces slick to make it easy for an Alpha to breed you. But this one,” a find taps at where his rim is stretched around the silicone intrusion, “not so much. I’m not gonna stop. If you don’t do as you’re told, you’re going to get hurt. So, _relax_.”

The last word is growled, an order from his Alpha.

Not his Alpha, Jason tries to remind himself, even as his body does as he’s told. This time he moans as the toy slides the rest of the way with little resistance. He wishes, more than anything, that none of this felt as good as it does.

“Good job, sweetheart. Now let’s get you filled up, huh? You’ll feel even better with a belly full of Alpha come and a nice, deep, claiming bite.”

Jason mewls, long and high pitched, when Deathstroke’s cock enters him and he can’t tell anymore if it’s in protest or pleasure. The older Alpha is long and thick and hard as a rock, slight bulge of a knot already starting.

The way Wilson fucks him is primal, rough, animalistic. Jason’s head slams into the headboard over and over again but he can’t care. He’s hot and overwhelmed and sobbing in bliss and he thinks at one point he begs for more.

He goes completely boneless when Slade’s teeth sink into the back of his neck.  


*             *             *  


  
The next months are a blur. Jason spends a great deal of his time overheated and the voice in the back of his head that says it’s not normal to have such long, intense heats, so close together gets quieter and quieter as the weeks go by.

Dick joins them the second time and he’s kinder, gentler, in the way he fucks but it’s no less vigorous and impassioned. Dick’s bite isn’t deep and claiming like Slade’s, but it makes Jason’s knees just as weak.

He still fights. Mostly on the few days where he feels himself, when he’s not burning under his skin, hot with desire and need. Or at the start of a new heat, when he makes them take him, prove they’re worthy suitors.

When they’re not fucking him into submission, Slade keeps him close and on his knees, often stuffed and plugged with any number of his seemingly endless stockpile of toys. It hasn’t taken long for Jason to forget why he was fighting. Why he has been so belligerent towards his Alpha. His _Alphas_.

Jason can’t even really remember what life was like before them. The past months, year maybe, have been so intense that the first time they go out he’s overwhelmed by other scents. They have to take aside and scent him, nuzzling close. Dick mutters sweet words of comfort and Slade whispers filth, until his distress subsides. And the first time he’s alone in the world without them he has to fight through a panic attack when he can no longer smell them.

But it doesn’t take too long to get back in the field. It feels good to smash his fist into people’s faces again. It feels even better to be useful to his pack again. For something other than sex, that is.

It’s good timing too. His current Alpha wants to take something from his old Alpha, the one who didn’t value his pack enough to be honest with them. Jason is all too eager to help.  
  


 

* * *

   
  


_Present_

Slade lifts Tim out of his lap easily and hands him back to Dick who immediately bends the beta over the now vacant armchair.

He watches as Jason shifts his position, back against the side of the chair and sucks Tim’s cock back into his mouth like he lives for it, while Dick spreads the kid open and starts lapping at the puffy, pink rim leaking Slade’s come before diving in and cleaning out the mess.

The Alpha indulges for several long minutes. Then he leaves them to it, heading to his office and checking his encrypted communications. Scrolling through possible contracts and unlikely team-up requests, a message from a contact in Gotham catches his eye.

He reads through it, studies the blurry image, then, grinning, he begins pulling up his Gotham surveillance network.

It has been a year and some change since he captured Tim. Apparently the Bat has already found a new bird.

Which means he has work to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't been terribly happy with the way this chapter went. I wanted it from Dick's pov but it just refused to be written that way.
> 
> I am still really happy about the idea though. And even though this chapter didn't go quite the way I wanted I still like it.

_6 years ago_

Robin is only here to protect his friends. Slade knows that. But the longer the kid is around, the harder it is for Dick Grayson to resist him.

Truthfully, Batman did all the hard work. Sure, Dick probably leaned a bit queer in the first place, sharing Slade’s interest in people of the same dynamic is something you’re born with, not something that can be trained into you. But the rest? Alpha Dick’s instinct to submit to another Alpha? That was definitely the product of years of conditioning.

He doesn’t think the holier-than-thou Bruce Wayne _meant_ to mold Dick that way. And there’s certainly enough of the Alpha-typical control and dominance left in the kid to make him the natural leader of his team, to demand the respect and allegiance of his peers, regardless of dynamic.

But all Slade has really had to do to make progress is keep winning the fights the kid insists on instigating. And it just gets easier every time. Each pin, each bite, weakens the younger man. Not physically, just weakens his resolve to continue the next time.

When training, the reward for a good fight is a good fuck. The punishment for poor performance is a cold shower, tasteless meal, and freezing cell. Deceptively simple.

Dick lasted a week in the beginning.

Now, a year later, he occasionally even makes the first move. The kid likes to be close to people, to touch and feel… Slade has happily taken advantage of that. Keeping him isolated, so that the only option for affection is Deathstroke.

It helps that he’s never been needlessly cruel; that he’s been pretty supportive when Dick had trouble accepting his new life. That he’s firmly established himself as trustworthy and reliable.

It also helps that he’s been subtly building up and reinforcing the insecurities and questioning Dick’s been doing about his mentor. He even ‘makes a mistake’ once that gets Dick captured. Just so he can rescue him. Prove that he can and will do what Batman either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

And it _really_ helps when a new kid starts flipping around at Batman’s side in Robin’s colors and pixie boots.

It’s not really Dick’s fault. Slade is very good at seeing the way to get what he wants. He knows exactly the right wounds to poke, the perfect words whisper in the correct tone at the proper moment.

_You’re right, he’s probably tearing the city apart looking for you. He just has an image to maintain._ Said straight faced and unconvinced, when Dick ‘happens’ to see footage and articles of Wayne seemingly enjoying himself at galas and parties after his disappearance.

_There’s no way he’s forgotten about you._ Spoken softly, with a hint of pity, when it appears that Batman has given up finding him.

_I’m sure he cared about you._ Past tense, whispered into the kid’s hair, a comforting hand on his shoulder, when the new Robin debuts.

That last one… he can feel the boy’s muscles tense before he spins around, glares up at him for a moment, then throws his arms around Slade’s neck and effortlessly pulls himself up, slamming their lips together and wrapping his long legs around Slade’s thick waist.

Reluctant acquiescence has been fine. Good even, on the occasion Dick forgets himself and lets go a little. But it’s all been subpar, drunken quickies compared to this enthusiastically undertaken encounter.

The boy moans when Slade shoves him against the wall. Gasps when Slade, after a quick squeeze of that fucking perfect ass, doesn’t bother taking the time to pull down the black compression leggings Dick is wearing and rips them wide at the seam in the back with one rough tug.

Slade feels a wild rush of possessiveness when he remembers that the kid is still slick from his reward for an excellent training session this morning. He pushes in with a single bestial drive of his hips and snarls in delight when a low, rumbling growl comes from the depths of Dick’s throat and his teeth sink into Slade’s shoulder.

The boy has never tried to mark him before.

The following struggle is both real and playful. He wonders how much finding out about the new Robin even hurt Dick’s feelings. He seems more angry than heartbroken. But either way, he slides past it quickly. All the work Slade has put in over the past year, chipping away at the kid’s psyche and replacing it with what _he_ wanted, is finally paying dividends.

He thinks he has Dick securely pinned against the wall, hips gripped tight enough to bruise, as he takes the offered prize with deep, brutal thrusts.

However he finds himself grunting in surprise when the boy knocks his heels into the back of Slade’s knees. He falls back, too shocked to react quick enough to stop the back of his head from slamming into the hard concrete floor. It doesn’t even bother him. He’s too focused on the feral grin spreading across Dick’s gloriously beautiful face, his own blood staining the boy’s lips brilliant red.

Reaching up, Slade tears the flimsy tank top off the kid so he can see his own claiming marks. A couple dozen deep bites that have healed into scars littering the expanse of golden skin. He digs his fingers into a few of them, watching as Dick shudders above him as the kid’s conditioning begs him to submit.

It’s gorgeous, the way he fights it even as he sighs happily and rolls his hips up, pulling off Slade’s cock until only the head remains, and then sinking slowly back down.

Slade tries to sit up, to get his lips on the quickly heating skin, lick his tongue over Dick’s scent gland to get more of his honeysuckle and lavender taste thinking that any Alpha who smells so much like a traditional omega was meant for being taken just the same way.

But Dick shoves him back down with a firm hand to his broad chest and rides him faster, harder, increasing in desperation.

Slade could force the issue. It wouldn’t be difficult to insist that Dick get under him. It would be easy to flip the kid onto his back and take.

Instead, he rests his hands on Dick’s hips to support and guide his movements, pick up a little of the slack when the boy’s pace reaches frantic and erratic speeds.

He comes before Dick does, spilling deep in that perfect ass that was obviously made for Slade to fuck. That’s when he smacks the kid’s hand away from his chest with a vicious growl, leans up, and buries his teeth deep in Dick’s throat, just under the Adam’s apple.

Shuddering and breathing hard, Dick’s movements still as a warm, wet spot spreads across the leggings still covering his groin and legs. Then he sags forward, nuzzles against Slade’s chest with what sounds very much like a contented purr, and dozes off curled against Slade’s bulk, knot stuffed snugly inside him.

That’s when he knows he’s succeeded, when he knows everything has gone as planned, that the young man has given up on his old Alpha. That Dick Grayson is _his_. Body. Heart. Soul.

It had been easier than expected.

*             *             *

A few months after finding out about his replacement, Dick waits patiently for Deathstroke to return.

The mission is in Gotham and Slade thinks it best not to show their hand too soon. By which he means that Dick is to stay behind and not get involved with the new kid. Yet.

He can see and hear everything. Every pointed comment and jab that Slade makes. Every non-committal grunt that Bruce voices in reply.

Every stupid quip or confused sound from the new Robin.

Dick’s glad he has Slade in his corner. Glad that the other Alpha is there to protect and support him when his other mentor turned out to be manipulative; a liar and a user.

Deathstroke won’t kill Robin. Not without Dick there and even then, only if Dick fails to do so himself.

But the longer the three fight and banter, the less Dick wants to permanently dispatch the kid.

When Slade finally returns, a little banged up but no worse for wear, Dick slides between his Alpha’s spread legs and starts dabbing at some of the scrapes on his face. They’ll heal without the help eventually, of course, and neither of them will ever admit it but there’s something calming and intimate about cleaning each other.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dick starts, unsuccessfully restraining a shiver as Slade leans in and starts licking at the gland just below his ear, “Maybe we don’t kill Robin. Maybe there’s a better way to make Batman pay, something that can show him how weak and impotent he really is.”

The movement at his throat freezes. It would worry Dick if he didn’t also hear a low, almost inaudible rumble starting deep in Slade’s chest. A sound he recognizes as immensely pleased.

Slade pulls back and looks him in the eyes, mean, conspiratorial smirk twisting his lips. “I’m glad you think so, pet,” he hums, twisting a lock of Dick’s hair around his finger, making Dick sigh happily. “Your replacement is an omega. Your old Alpha’s instincts would make him very… distraught if his omega was stolen from him.”

Dick feels his own lips curl up in a wicked grin, drops his hands to his Alpha’s waistband and teasingly slips his fingers just beneath. “An omega, huh? Might be kind of fun to have one of those around.”  
  


* * *

  
_Present_

It’s been about four months since Slade discovered the newest bird and he’s since managed to dig up the kid’s life story.

He had been prepared to let Wayne have this one. He doesn’t want to mess with the current dynamics of the pack he has now. Not if all he’s going to get out of it is another beta, omega, or, god forbid, yet another Alpha.

Entering the bedroom, he pauses at the foot of the ridiculously large bed he had been forced to buy so that they’d all fit. They’re all piled on top of each other. Tim is on the verge of dozing off, tucked up close to Jason where the older boy can lick the post-coital sweat from the beta’s face. Dick is at Jason’s back and has the omega wrapped up tightly in his arms, nuzzling at the scent gland for a concentrated dose of the spiced apple cider and warm bread aroma that, with Dick’s floral fragrance and Tim’s barely there clean, soapy scent, is currently tinting the pervasive cloud of sex. Dick is obviously still waiting for his knot to come down.

Slade licks his lips to get a taste of all of his trophies in the air and loses his resolve to not disturb them.

He sits lightly on the edge of the bed, nearest Timothy, and three sets of happy, lust-drunk blue eyes turn toward him.

“Did you learn anything?” Dick coos softly, snuggling even closer to Jason.

“Hmm,” Slade hums in affirmation, “The boy’s name is Damian.”

The young men all stare at him, knowing there must be more. They may not be able to read the excitement bubbling under his skin in his body language, but they’re all close enough now that they can definitely smell it on him.

“And?” Jason asks groggily, “Is he worth ruining your collection?”

“Oh, he won’t be ruining anything. He’ll make a fine addition to the collection, to our pack.”

Slade just gazes at them for another long minute, once again marveling at how uniquely stupid Bruce Wayne is. Until Tim turns away and burrows closer to the warmth offered by the omega’s skin.

His words are quiet and muffled when he asks, “Are you going to tell us or not? I’m tired.”

“I hope he’s not an Alpha,” Dick mutters, scrunching his nose cutely as Jason nods in enthusiastic agreement.

Slade runs his fingers through Tim’s hair, getting a soft moan in payment. “I don’t know what he is. It doesn’t matter.”

That gets Tim’s attention and all three are suddenly sharper, more focused.

Slade smiles, baring his teeth like the predator he is.

“The new Robin is Damian Wayne. Your old mentor’s biological son.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t hate this idea. But I hate the execution. I’ve had a really hard time writing the last few weeks so I’m really sorry but this is me trying to fight through it. I’m so tired of staring at the screen and nothing coming out so I forced it and you can tell (that’s also my excuse for not editing).


End file.
